


Paradox

by henriqua



Series: Lost and Found [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Genderfluid Character, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, References to Depression, Smoking, they're sad and broken and hurt but at least they have each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27244924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriqua/pseuds/henriqua
Summary: [Paradox (noun): a statement that is seemingly contradictory or opposed to common sense and yet is perhaps true.]Yuri doesn’t believe in love, because to love one has to learn to be vulnerable. Yuri isn’t weak.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: Lost and Found [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187231
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54
Collections: Otayuri Week 2020





	Paradox

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Otayuri Week 2020 Day 4: Free day
> 
> This story is part of an AU called "an AU I might or might not write at some point", but just like the other parts, it's a stand-alone piece. If you're interested, the other parts can be read on Tumblr:
> 
> [part 1](https://sleepyams.tumblr.com/post/166917639347/) | [part 2](https://sleepyams.tumblr.com/post/168284019767/) | [part 3](https://sleepyams.tumblr.com/post/169156197042/)
> 
> It's a very dear AU of mine, and just like the name suggests, I might finish it one day. Until that, I hope you enjoy this one ♡

It’s Isabella’s birthday, and even though parties hosted by JJ are always big and excessive, Yuri thinks he really has outdone himself this time: decorations in Isabella’s favorite colors, huge cakes done by the most expensive baker in the whole city, and more free drinks than ever. JJ had even promised to pay Otabek for DJ-ing at the party, but Otabek had told him to keep the money (JJ lets him live under his roof, after all.  
  
The other reason is that Otabek would have been in charge of the music anyway, money or not.)  
  
Earlier that day Otabek and JJ had carried Otabek’s DJ setup downstairs and connected it to the house’s sound system. Even though Yuri loves seeing Otabek behind the professional setup with headphones on, nodding his head to the music he plays, a part of him is happy that in most parties Otabek’s DJ-ing is just a laptop and a playlist of pre-mixed tracks.  
  
(Because Yuri gets to see Otabek in the middle of creating music upstairs in his room, shirtless and smoking in chain (and, somehow, the cigarettes that end up between Otabek’s fingers have stains of Yuri’s lipstick on them), and Yuri doesn’t want to share those moments. It’s selfish, he knows, but Yuri has never been good at sharing.)  
  
It’s been five months since Yuri slid a shot of whiskey over the counter and gave a smile to the stranger with scared eyes and overgrown hair. Otabek had looked terrible, like a prisoner who had broken free after years of torturing incarceration. Yuri had pitied him a little, told him he looked rough, and downed a shot with him.  
  
Falling for Otabek hadn’t been part of Yuri’s plan: he had barely gotten out of a bad relationship, and had promised Viktor that he would take better care of himself from that point on. Yuri knew Otabek was JJ’s friend and would be in that party he ended up swinging by two days after their first meeting, and when he woke up in Otabek’s bed the next morning - hangover, half naked and covered in imprints of the older man’s teeth - he told himself it was just harmless fun.  
  
Yuri doesn’t believe in love, because to love one has to learn to be vulnerable. Yuri isn’t _weak_. Whatever he and Otabek have is simply fooling around to pass the time; to have something to do before they eventually drift apart. That’s what has always happened to Yuri, and it has never been the end of the world (yet thinking about Otabek leaving him makes Yuri’s ribcage so heavy it’s hard to breathe).  
  
But it’s not love. Love is throwing your girlfriend luxurious birthday parties, or sharing a soft look after a kiss, or waking up to the smell of coffee and knowing there’s someone waiting for you in the kitchen.  
  
Yuri pours himself a drink, leans against the kitchen island and watches how JJ leads Isabella to the dance floor, a matching set of smiles on their faces. Yuri lets his eyes drag from the birthday girl to the corner of the huge living room where Otabek is talking with people Yuri doesn’t recognize. They seem to be around the same age as Otabek, and he assumes they probably went to school together before Otabek dropped out.  
  
Not that Yuri cares.  
  
He leaves his half-full cup on the kitchen island when he hears someone complaining about the drink selection. He’s unofficially in charge of the drinks (JJ asked him really nicely, promising to pay him, and Yuri gave him a huge eye roll and told him he doesn’t need the money - which, obviously, was a lie, because Yuri definitely is in a desperate need of money. However, he’s not going to take pity money from his friends, _especially_ from JJ), so he ducks into the stuffed freezer and starts to pile bottles on the kitchen table.  
  
It takes some time for Yuri to be happy with both presentation and selection, and when he turns to take a glance over his shoulder to check the time, he notices his drink isn’t on the kitchen island anymore. Instead of pouring himself a new one he fetches a bottle of beer from the fridge and disappears into the crowd of dancing people.  
  
When Yuri reaches Otabek’s working station, he finds the DJ of the night surrounded by JJ, Isabella, and some of their mutual friends. Somehow Yuri manages to slip himself between Otabek and JJ (actually the latter notices him and takes half a step to the side so Yuri fits comfortably where he needs to be).  
  
“Have you taken a break yet?” Yuri asks quietly as he hands the beer to Otabek. The older man has his headphones around his neck, a black T-shirt glued to his back from all the people and dancing. He gives Yuri a small, quick smile when he takes the bottle.  
  
“I think I’m taking one now,” he says, opens the bottle and takes a long drink. “Thank you, tiger.”  
  
“Hey! Don’t you work in the bar downtown?” It takes Yuri a second to realize the girl is talking to him. He blinks and nods, tries to find his customer service smile.  
  
“Yeah. Sorry, I can’t remember you,” Yuri says, not really meaning to sound rude. Thankfully the girl just laughs.  
  
“I’ve been thinking the whole night where I’ve seen you, you looked so familiar! I mean, you didn’t go to school with us, did you?” By _us_ she probably means Otabek, JJ, Isabella and the other people in the small circle.  
  
“No, I didn’t go to school here,” Yuri says, unconsciously taking a small step backwards. He notices the tension in his shoulders when Otabek places a comforting hand on the small of his back, securing him.  
  
“How did you end up here, then? I mean, everybody just wants _out_ of here,” a boy standing next to the girl asks, laughing. Yuri bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn’t accidentally say something he doesn’t want to say.  
  
“My grandpa lives here, and he’s kinda sick, so I’m… taking care of him,” Yuri says, and he isn’t really lying.  
  
He’s just leaving out the juvenile halls, and the social workers telling him he has a dark future ahead of him if he doesn’t stop hanging around with the wrong people (they didn’t need to know that whenever Yuri got back to the streets, in two hours he was in someone else’s bed again, inhaling lines of coke while his mother did harder drugs on the other end of the city). He stays quiet about the time when his mother got arrested a week before his 17th birthday, and he was sent to live with his sick grandfather in a small city he had never even heard the name of.  
  
Yuri _is_ taking care of his grandfather, while his grandfather is trying to take care of him. Yuri isn’t a child anymore, he could leave and go back to the big city, but there he only has a mother in prison. It’s pathetic that here Yuri has more.  
  
“That’s sweet!” Another girl coos - she’s definitely more drunk than the others - and Yuri gives him a genuine smile.  
  
JJ says something that steers the topic of the conversation away from Yuri, and even though Yuri isn’t sure if JJ did it on purpose or not, he’s thankful. He leans against Otabek, the older man’s hand now settled lower on Yuri’s backside.  
  
“Are you having fun?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You don’t look like it.” Yuri turns to look at Otabek, who gives him a shrug. He slips a finger past the high waistband of Yuri’s denim shorts, but there’s nothing teasing in the touch. Yuri kind of wishes there would be.  
  
“It’s crowded,” Yuri states, and Otabek hums. He puts an empty beer bottle on the table next to his laptop.  
  
“You can stay here with me, if you want. Another hour or so, and no one will care if I play for real or not.” Yuri huffs out a little laugh at that, but shakes his head.  
  
“I’d just be distracting you, and then JJ would get mad at us both.”  
  
“So you’ll just hit the dance floor and think that won’t distract me?” Otabek’s face is unreadable, but there’s amusement in his tone. He looks like he’s interested in the conversation between JJ and a guy they went to school with, but in reality his focus is on Yuri: what he’s going to say, the warmth of their bodies against each other, and how the younger man’s fingertips run along the hem of his black T-shirt but won’t venture underneath it.  
  
“-but I think Otabek’s the crazy one here, he came back!” They’re pulled away from their own bubble at the mention of Otabek’s name. Yuri sees the boy from earlier laughing, pushing a girl around his age towards the group of people. It’s getting crowded around the makeshift DJ station, and even though Yuri is tightly pressed against Otabek’s side, he’s starting to feel unsafe.  
  
“Oh my God, it’s been years!” the new girl exclaims, and when she reaches out to hug Otabek, she smiles so widely the corners of her eyes crinkle. Otabek hugs her back, but doesn’t move the arm wrapped around Yuri’s waist. “Where have you been?”  
  
“All around the country. Nothing beats home, though.” Yuri sees the delicate frown that visits JJ’s face, something he does when he gets confused - just like Yuri, he knows Otabek is lying. However, everybody else around them nod in agreement, and for once JJ says nothing.  
  
The girl still has her hand resting on Otabek’s arm, a golden band on her ring finger.  
  
The girl opens her mouth to say something, but Otabek beats her. “I probably should get back to work,” he says, meeting eyes with JJ. Yuri notices Otabek has gathered a fistful of Yuri’s shirt in the hand placed on the small of his back, his fingers relaxing only when JJ starts to ramble about Otabek’s DJ-ing and how the house’s multiroom audio system works.  
  
The girl lets go of Otabek’s arm when Isabella calls her name and asks about her drink preference.  
  
“I’m fine,” Otabek mumbles before Yuri gets to ask.  
  
“I can stay if you-”  
  
“Yuri!” Yuri shoots an annoyed look at JJ, but unfortunately the older man has grown immune to them. He only smiles widely, one arm around Isabella’s waist, another motioning Yuri to come with him and his former classmates. “I think we need your help in the kitchen!”  
  
“I’m a bit busy here, if you haven’t-”  
  
“Go,” Otabek says before pulling him into a quick, heated kiss. It surprises Yuri - not because he’s not used to sudden kisses, but because Otabek isn’t the kind of person to give them in front of other people. Yuri is slightly out of breath when they part, and the teasing glint in Otabek’s eyes doesn’t help. “I’ll see you later.”  
  
Yuri ends up going with JJ and his friends, Otabek sending him off with another kiss they both end up smiling into.  
  
*  
  
Yuri spends most of the next hour and a half sitting at the top of the stairs, hiding from JJ and his crew of old friends. Yuri isn’t exactly bad at socializing - his job has taught him to tolerate all kinds of people - but he knows from experience that if he’s forced to be around people who make him feel uncomfortable (unsafe, choked, cornered, _crushed_ under all those gazes), eventually someone will get hurt. They seemed to have all kinds of questions to Yuri, ranging from his job to how he had met JJ, and after the stunt Otabek pulled in front of them, they were even more eager to have a word with him.  
  
So Yuri escaped.  
  
He’s not complaining, though: from his hiding spot he has a perfect view of the living room and Otabek’s DJ station. He also managed to grab himself a couple of drinks before fleeing, and he’s enjoying them while watching the dancing crowd and the DJ of the night.  
  
It’s dark, the living room’s lights either dimmed or replaced with colorful ones. Music’s loud, a lot of people losing themselves to it, holding their drinks high in the air while they move their bodies to the beat. Otabek takes his headphones off, and he must know Yuri is watching, because after running a hand through his hair to comb it back he gives the top of the stairs a glance and smiles.  
  
Yuri can’t tear his eyes away, and a part of him is happy that he doesn’t have to. He stares, and stares, and _stares_ ; watches Otabek nodding his head to the music he has worked hard for, sees how he accepts a drink from JJ and follows him away from the DJ-ing station after a couple of clicks on the laptop.  
  
Yuri’s eyes are still on Otabek when he climbs up the stairs and sits down next to him on the uppermost one, the material of his black jeans tickling Yuri’s bare thigh. His dark hair is a little messy, but Yuri isn’t sure if it is intentional or just the result of wearing those chunky headphones Otabek seems to treasure so much.  
  
“The party’s downstairs.”  
  
“Yet you’re here.” Otabek huffs out a laugh and reaches for Yuri’s half-empty bottle of beer.  
  
“So are you,” he says and takes a drink. Yuri leans against him, puts his head on his shoulder and sighs.  
  
“I’m hiding,” Yuri explains, knowing it’s not an actual answer to what Otabek said, but Otabek still replies with an understanding hum. The bottle is almost empty when he puts it down on the step next to their feet, the faint _clink_ of glass against wood barely reaching Yuri’s ears.  
  
The music’s still loud.  
  
Otabek rests his hand on Yuri’s knee, thumb drawing invisible circles on pale skin. The touch is comforting, calming the heavy anxieties that have been building up inside Yuri’s chest the whole night. He lets out a small laugh instead of saying _thank you_ , but Otabek understands.  
  
In the past few months they have kissed many, many times, yet Yuri still feels the nervous anticipation in the bottom of his stomach when Otabek leans in and presses their lips together. His hand travels upwards from Yuri’s knee, feather-like touches leaving goosebumps in their wake. The hand settles high on Yuri’s inner thigh, and he doesn’t even try to keep down the disappointed whine he makes when Otabek breaks the kiss.  
  
“Do you wanna hide with me?” Yuri wants to roll his eyes at Otabek’s corny choice of words, but he doesn’t - mostly because he knows saying something like that is just _so_ Otabek.  
  
“Don’t you have DJ-ing to do?”  
  
“I put on a playlist.”  
  
“And you think people won’t notice your absence?”  
  
“It’s a long playlist.”  
  
Yuri laughs and shakes his head in amused disbelief, but gets on his feet. Otabek’s hand is warm when Yuri takes it, letting him lead the way to his room at the end of the corridor. (Yuri doesn’t really call it _Otabek’s room_ , because half of the clothes in the wardrobe are his, and he can’t remember when was the last time he spent a night at his grandpa’s place.)  
  
Otabek closes the door behind them but doesn’t bother to turn on any lights - there’s a bright streetlight on the other side of the street that shines in the room, but it’s still dark. Yuri giggles against Otabek’s lips when they almost trip on something forgotten on the floor, and Otabek steadies himself by sliding his hands into the back pockets of Yuri’s denim shorts.  
  
Yuri closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy how the kiss smoothly changes from two smiles pressed together to something that makes the back of his neck hot. His fingertips feel Otabek’s prickly undercut before slipping into the dark hair (he gathers some strands together and tugs just the way he knows Otabek likes it, getting excited at the way his breathing hitches).  
  
The hands in Yuri’s back pockets pull him closer, and Otabek groans when Yuri’s teeth find his bottom lip, teasingly biting down before tracing it with his tongue as if to apologize for being so rough. Yuri swears he feels sparks between them when his hands travel down on Otabek’s back, his fingers finding the skintight T-shirt’s hem and shyly wandering underneath it.  
  
Yuri breaks their contact to get Otabek out of his shirt, but the older man chases his lips into a new kiss (and Yuri lets Otabek pull him as close as he physically can; so close he wants to think he can hear and feel Otabek’s heart sharing a rhythm with his, Otabek sighing into Yuri’s mouth when his palm settles on his lower back, nails creating crescented moons on tanned skin).  
  
It takes a moment from Yuri’s eyes to get used to the darkness, and his eyelids feel heavy when he blinks. Otabek showers him in small kisses, starting from the corner of his mouth, followed by his cheek, his jawbone, his neck. He hooks his thumbs in the belt loops of Otabek’s jeans and lets out a breathy laugh when Otabek reaches his lips again.  
  
“Bed?” Otabek doesn’t answer immediately, reluctant to let go of Yuri even for a second. Another quick kiss that’s slightly off-centered, another quiet laugh (but this time it’s Otabek), another set of realizations running through Yuri’s mind as Otabek rests his forehead against his and smiles.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Yuri lies down in the middle of the bed (unmade with way too many pillows for the two of them, blankets kicked to the sides), watching how Otabek pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside before climbing on top of him. He hides his smile in Yuri’s neck and kisses his pulse as Yuri’s cold fingertips follow the muscles in his arms and back, settling in his dark hair and guiding him into a kiss.  
  
The music downstairs is still loud enough to shake the walls around them, and it almost swallows the happy sigh Yuri breathes out when Otabek’s lips travel down on his neck.  
  
“Can you put the light on?” Otabek suddenly asks, fingers already working the button of Yuri’s shorts open. Yuri rolls onto his stomach and reaches for a lamp standing on the floor next to their bed. They don’t have bedside tables or any other proper spots for desk lamps, because Otabek still hasn’t settled down and Yuri is just visiting (everything is still looking for their places, just like them). He flicks the switch and a warm, orange glow fills the room.  
  
Otabek’s hand brushes gently against the back of Yuri’s knee, guiding him in the middle of the bed again. He finishes Otabek’s job and strips out of his denim shorts, blinking slowly: their eyes meet and Yuri smiles, his heart rate picking up when Otabek returns the smile. He’s on his knees between Yuri’s legs, thumb drawing circles over the tattoo on Yuri’s ankle, a stain of lipstick on the corner of his mouth.  
  
“You never seemed like the jealous type.” At first Otabek frowns in confusion, but soon he huffs out a laugh.  
  
“I’m not. I just didn’t like the way they were talking to you.”  
  
“I can take care of myself.”  
  
“I know you can, tiger,” he says, lowering his eyes. Excitement and anticipation bubble in Yuri’s stomach as Otabek’s hand moves higher on his leg. “I guess I got a little jealous. And possessive.”  
  
His hand stops on Yuri’s inner thigh, dark gaze finding an emerald one; Yuri’s breath gets caught in his throat.  
  
“It’s alright.”  
  
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”  
  
“I wasn’t. Or I was, but not because of you.” Otabek hums, quiet and low - Yuri can barely hear him over the music blasting downstairs. He recognizes the song playing is the one he helped Otabek remix some time ago. It didn’t turn out good, but it’s still in the playlist. “How about the girl?”  
  
“What girl?”  
  
“The one with the engagement ring. Were you two a thing?” Yuri is joking, but Otabek’s face stays serious (that’s not unusual, though, and Yuri has learned that most of the time being expressionless is easier for Otabek - less draining, less distressing).  
  
“She sucked my dick once or twice when we got drunk. Nothing serious.”  
  
“So like me.”  
  
“No. Nothing like you.” He’s frowning now - it’s subtle, but it’s there - but not from confusion this time. His mouth is a straight line, sudden tension in his shoulders making his hold of Yuri’s thigh a bit tighter than he probably intended.  
  
Yuri’s chest feels hollow, his heart drumming against his ribs so loudly he can’t hear the music over it anymore. He doesn’t realize he has squeezed his hands into fists until Otabek touches his left one, brushes a thumb over his knuckles to make him relax.  
  
“Yura.” He looks like he wants to say something else, and a part of Yuri wants to force the words out of him (the other part is scared to hear what Otabek has in mind, so scared he’d rather leave the house and never come back). “Can you hear me?”  
  
“Ye-yeah, I mean- fuck, sorry,” Yuri stammers. He wraps his fingers around Otabek’s wrist and tugs gently, a sigh of relief escaping from him when Otabek understands what he means even without words. He leans in and kisses Yuri, slow and long, and lets the blonde press his palm on his shirtless chest to feel his heartbeat.  
  
There’s a dash of sadness and concern mixed in the soft way Otabek looks at Yuri, his fingertips warm when he follows Yuri’s cheekbone with his thumb.  
  
“Do you want to go to sleep?”  
  
Yuri thinks he must look bad for Otabek to ask him that, but he shakes his head. His thoughts are racing, getting tangled with each other as they try to run away from the obvious, and he needs a distraction.   
  
They could hide under the covers and tune out the steady pounding of music with whispered laughs; or they could put their clothes back on and go downstairs, pour themselves strong drinks and make out behind Otabek’s DJ-setup.  
  
But Yuri doesn’t want other people, alcohol and music, or even sleep; he wants Otabek.  
  
“Just you,” Yuri starts, clearing his throat. He opens his mouth to continue but nothing comes out, and that’s all Otabek needs to hear.  
  
He pulls Yuri’s shirt over his head before kissing him, hands knowing their way around Yuri’s body. For once Yuri doesn’t have to bite down his gasps and sighs of pleasure: the party downstairs ensures no one outside the room could hear him anyway. Otabek’s mouth travels down on Yuri’s neck, a gentle scrape of teeth asking for permission to keep going.  
  
(Tiny, deep purple bruises on Yuri’s neck could give him trouble at work, but he never tries to hide them. He knows about Otabek’s fixation to mark his own - the bike, the bottles of beer in the fridge, _Yuri_ \- so he says nothing. He loves the way Otabek looks at the bite marks later, serious but unapologetic.)  
  
Otabek finds his eyes once more when his hands reach Yuri’s hips, fingers running along the waistband of his underwear. This time Otabek isn’t asking for permission - he knows he has it - but reassurance. Yuri rolls his eyes and tells Otabek it’s okay; that _he_ is okay, and would rather be nowhere but here.  
  
Yuri closes his eyes and rests his head on the pillows when Otabek goes down on him, hands wandering. His mouth is hot, skillfully teasing Yuri closer and closer to the edge just to pull away, a mix of anticipation and excitement spreading from the bottom of his stomach slowly but steadily.  
  
Otabek has one corner of his mouth quirked up when he gives Yuri a moment to catch his breath, fetching the half-empty bottle of lube from where it’s discarded on the floor. The soft light in the room creates faint shadows on his face, follows his collarbones and blends in with the delicate lines of ink spreading from his back down his shoulders.  
  
(The eagle tattoo on Otabek’s back represents his home, the country he grew up in. It’s gorgeous and often made Yuri ask _“Do you miss home?”_ even though he knew Otabek wouldn’t give him a proper answer. Otabek doesn’t talk about Kazakhstan or his family, and JJ told Yuri once - they were drunk, Otabek passed out on one of the living room couches - that’s only because Otabek hates getting hurt.  
  
Yuri hasn’t asked since.)  
  
Yuri wants to tell Otabek he’s beautiful, but he’s afraid he might say something else. Instead he holds his hand out and pulls Otabek close when he takes his hand, intertwining their fingers. Yuri kisses him, sliding a hand into the dark hair, a soft moan escaping him when Otabek circles his rim with one finger before slowly pushing it in.  
  
Otabek has always been slow and careful at preparing Yuri, even when they were drunk and everything else was sloppy. Yuri has told him more than once that he should hurry up, that he wants Otabek _now_ , but Otabek just kisses him silent. It’s meant to distract Yuri and make his body relax under Otabek’s touches, and even though the slide of his fingers inside Yuri always feels uncomfortable at first, it quickly makes him whine needily between kisses and roll his hips in rhythm with Otabek’s hand.   
  
“ _Beka_ ,” he says sharply, reminding Otabek this was originally his idea, and that Yuri is growing impatient. Otabek kisses him, laughs against his lips, and when he stands up to take his jeans off he lets his eyes run up and down on Yuri’s naked body on the bed (and Yuri doesn’t get self-conscious under the gaze, not anymore). He blinks slowly and smiles at Otabek taking his hand when he gets back on top of him.  
  
They share the house with four other people, and most of the time one or two friends spend their night on the living room couches; Yuri is never really alone with Otabek. In the past months he has learned to bite his lip and bury his face in the crook of Otabek’s neck to keep his otherwise loud voice down.  
  
Otabek always says he wants to hear him, and Yuri doesn’t actually care if they wake their roommates up, but Otabek is a quiet person (and not just in bed, but in general too - he listens but rarely opens his mouth; he watches but doesn’t engage). The party downstairs isn’t showing any signs of ending soon, but a part of Yuri still wants to stay quiet so he won’t miss anything.  
  
Something in Yuri feels different, overwhelmed in a way, and he knows it’s not because of the alcohol, or the party, or the uncomfortable knot behind his ribs tied by Otabek’s former classmates. He can’t name the feeling (or doesn’t want to), and even though he feels like crying, he won’t.  
  
(Yuri doesn’t cry unless he’s drunk _and_ tired, and only when he’s alone. Otabek is an exception, but sometimes he’s also the reason Yuri blinks his tears away: like when Yuri comes back after visiting his grandpa for a couple of hours and the bedroom is still dark; or when Yuri asks Otabek when was the last time he ate something and he can’t remember; or when at noon Yuri says they should get up from bed and Otabek holds him against his chest and whispers _please don’t leave me here alone, baby_.)  
  
The way Otabek whispers Yuri’s name into his ear over and over again makes him see stars behind his eyelids. He slides his hands behind Otabek’s neck and kisses the side of his jaw, rolling his hips to the rhythm of Otabek’s thrusts.  
  
The party downstairs disappears: it’s just them in the dimly lit bedroom - both a little broken and a little lost, but not alone (for once). It’s just two bodies pressed together, a gentle kiss on the other one’s sweaty temple and a trip to the shower on shaky legs.  
  
*  
  
Yuri slips back into his underwear, picks up Otabek’s leather jacket from the floor and throws it over his shoulders. He barely breathes when he makes his way through the room - Otabek is a light sleeper, and Yuri isn’t even completely sure if he’s actually sleeping or just faking it so Yuri would stop tossing and turning next to him.  
  
If he was faking, it didn’t work.  
  
Yuri slides the window open, sits on the windowsill and counts the cigarettes in the pack stashed in the jacket’s pocket before lighting one. He’ll buy Otabek new ones before he even realizes he’s missing some.  
  
It’s not really dark anymore, the rising sun painting the horizon warm orange. Yuri blows smoke out of the window, it twirling in the stagnant air before disappearing. Yuri doesn’t know how early it is, but he can’t hear any signs of morning traffic.  
  
It’s just him, smoke in his lungs, and loud thoughts inside his head.  
  
Yuri is lighting his third - or fourth? - cigarette when he finally feels like he has enough strength to dive into his stream of thoughts. A part of him wants to hurry downstairs, find JJ and ask him for help, but Yuri is quick to discard that plan. It’s better to leave JJ out of this mess he has created for himself.  
  
Another plan is to go downstairs and find Mila, but she would just make fun of him. Yuri knows it’s just Mila’s way to show she cares, but that’s not something he needs right now. For a second Yuri even considers calling his mother, but the thought is too ridiculous even for him (and they don’t accept phone calls to prison before 8am anyway, right?)  
  
Yuri feels defeated. He sighs, long and deep, light-grey smoke escaping from his lungs and dissolving into the morning air. He takes a look over his shoulder at the man sleeping in their shared bed, his usually serious expression peaceful and calm.  
  
Otabek carries his heavy, troubled past with him no matter where he goes. It has seeped into the delicate frown between his eyebrows and tensed up shoulders, and Yuri hates to admit he doesn’t notice it when they’re both awake. But watching Otabek now - momentarily disconnected from all the weight - makes Yuri’s heart sink.  
  
Yuri presses his hands over his eyes, angry at the burn of tears. He wants to hate this small town, his job at the bar and the stupid nicknames Mila comes up with. He wants to hate JJ’s posh parties with expensive alcohol, and the soft smile on Viktor’s face when he gives him his paycheck. He wants to hate the way Otabek looks at him, and more than anything, Yuri wants to hate the person he has become.  
  
“Smoking gives you cancer.” Yuri jumps at the words, and the half-smoked cigarette falls from between his fingers. He’s quick to dry the tears on his cheeks to the sleeve of Otabek’s leather jacket and forces out a laugh.  
  
“We all will die in one way or another.”  
  
Otabek doesn’t reply, and Yuri uses the silence to take out another cigarette. He’s about to light it when its rightful owner snatches it to himself. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“ _Yura_ ,” Otabek says, the weight of his tone telling Yuri more than words ever could. It’s packed with concern; Otabek’s way of saying _I never fell asleep and I watched you smoke all those cigarettes while crying so I know you’re lying when you say ‘nothing’_.  
  
“I-”, Yuri starts, choking on tears. He clears his throat and looks out of the window. Otabek’s fingertips brush gently over the inside of his wrist before he intertwines their fingers. A tear falls on Yuri’s cheek, and Otabek catches it with his thumb. “I think I love you.”  
  
Yuri’s voice comes out barely a whisper, raw from tears and the force he had to punch into himself to get the words out. He knows it sounds wrong, like he was ungrateful for everything that’s the two of them, but he has never been as terrified as he’s right now: because to love one has to learn to be vulnerable, and Yuri wants to think he isn’t _weak_. He’s made it through countless days in juvenile halls, fistfighting the other boys and getting beaten up by the staff; he’s made it through nights of using coke as a painkiller because he had to let his dealer lay his hands on his already bruised body; he’s made it through early mornings where he woke up next to his dealer and left the apartment with a tiny plastic bag slipped in the back pocket of his jeans, going home just to find his mother and a strange man cooking heroin in the kitchen.  
  
Yuri has never had the time to be vulnerable, and Otabek understands because he has never gotten that chance, either.  
  
“And that’s why you’re crying?” he asks, cupping Yuri’s cheek with his hand. Yuri avoids his gaze but lets him wipe away all the tears that keep rolling down his face. “You don’t have to cry, tiger."  
  
“It’s scary,” Yuri mumbles into Otabek’s palm and squeezes his eyes shut, salty drops clinging to his pale eyelashes. He absolutely hates to admit he’s scared, but it’s still easier than admitting he’s weak. He shivers in disgust and Otabek pulls him against his chest, and there Yuri doesn’t have to hide his tears because no one can see them.  
  
It’s scary because the two people Yuri has ever really cared about are either in prison or terminally ill. It’s scary because Otabek has gotten hurt enough already, and Yuri would rather die than be the reason he gets hurt again (or hurts himself again). It’s scary because eventually Yuri is out of tears and letting Otabek kiss him again and again feels right rather than wrong, like it was the easiest thing in the world.  
  
It’s scary because the _I love you, too_ Otabek whispers into the space between them should feel like a death sentence, but it doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay safe and if you ever need someone to talk to, don't be afraid to dm me ♡
> 
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